


He Hit Me (And It Felt Like a Kiss)

by cigarettesandalcohol



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Fucked Up, It's all kinda subtle, M/M, Physical Abuse, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-14 07:51:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16488617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cigarettesandalcohol/pseuds/cigarettesandalcohol
Summary: He hit him, but it didn't hurt him.





	He Hit Me (And It Felt Like a Kiss)

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This is a work of fiction. This is the dark way of seeing the Dybaldo ship. I swear I'll try to write something fluffy about them as well. But for now - MIND THE TAGS.
> 
> As always, sorry for any mistakes in English - and for the angsty, dark theme.  
> The title and overall story of the fic is inspired/taken from the song "He hit me (And it felt like a kiss)" by The Crystals.
> 
> If he didn't care for me  
> I could have never made him mad  
> But he hit me  
> And I was glad  
> Yes, he hit me  
> And it felt like a kiss  
> He hit me  
> And I knew I loved him  
> And then he took me in his arms  
> With all the tenderness there is  
> And when he kissed me  
> He made me his

 It's a beautiful day.

Paulo knows that as soon as he sees Cristiano open his eyes.

 "Good morning," he smiles, and his heart just flutters at the sight of Cris' face lighting up.

" _Morning_."

That's the better way of starting a conversation.

But sometimes, they don't wake up in a bed together. 

Sometimes Cris comes home in the middle of the night, slamming the door unnecessarily loud and muttering his Portuguese swear words under his breath; in that case, it's never a good idea to start asking questions.

Dybala does, just to make himself feel better - he's there, he's worried about Cris, and he's ready to help.

"Cris - Cris, look at me. What's wrong?" He takes him by the hand, touches his jaw and cheek and tries to make him stop and relax, share his inner pain that's obvious from his expression - 

Cristiano is quick to push him away. "Don't you fucking start."

"What happened? I was getting worried, you didn't call, no messages - " He gazes at the man lovingly and tries to touch his hair.

"Shut the fuck up. I've had a bad day enough even without your stupid questions." He slams the bedroom door behind him, leaving Paulo standing outside.

It's okay. It's Cristiano's apartment, after all.

It's okay. He's had a bad day.

It's okay. He'll sleep in the living room. As always, when it's _one of these days_ \- and wake up with the sunrise to make breakfast.

In the morning, Cristiano comes out of his bedroom only in his briefs.

"You look amazing," Paulo tells him, jaw-dropped, and Cristiano laughs in the sweetest manner.

It's a beautiful day.

The kitchen counter sex is just a cherry on top of that dream-like morning.

Paulo loves him, unconditionally, passionately, with his whole heart - and with his whole body as well. What Cris wants, he also gets. 

And what Cris wants, Paulo is willing to give.

No matter how disgraceful it feels sometimes.

No matter how painful it might be. 

He is ready to say "I'm all yours" and repeat it every minute of his life, with every heartbeat and every breath he takes.

Not that Cristiano would ever ask.

And not that Paulo would mind.

The others, the girls and boys that were before him, they didn't deserve him. A raised voice, a smirk, one bad day - and they chickened out and ran away, selfish and ungrateful. Paulo would never do that. Cristiano needs a good person to be there for him - he deserves unbounded love because he's Cristiano, he's THE MAN.

He deserves someone who wouldn't get frightened by an occasional mood swing or a hit to the face. Cristiano is just a man like anybody else. He has better days and worse days too. It's not his fault. There's just so much stress and expectations and everybody wants a piece of him, touch him, hug him, take a photo with him. It must be exhausting to be this good, famous and beloved. It's only natural he needs his peace at least at home.

He knows that Cristiano is a good man. He smiles with his whole heart, he's beautiful inside out, he's generous and sweet and loving and caring, Paulo has never seen anyone being better in charity work and taking care of his own big family - and he's oh so sexy while doing it.

Cristiano might have punched him. Once. Twice. Regularly, when he got angry. But that was because of his own stupidity. And Cristiano was just a man, just a regular mortal, no matter on how big pedestal anyone tried to put him - he was just a man with his wishes and needs and fails. That was only natural. Who could blame him? He had it so hard already. Besides, he was really trying to be good. He remembered Paulo's favorite chocolate and flowers and he also bought him a beautiful gold ring and regularly took him to a restaurant while making a reservation for the whole rooftop - just for the two of them to have a nice view of Turin.

 How could he not love him after all he's done for him?

Cristiano told him he loved him once, maybe twice. But the words resonate in Paulo's mind every day when he looks at him, even when Cristiano gets irritated by him and his constant babbling.

"Shut the fuck up for once, will you?"

"Sorry," he apologizes and cuddles closer to Cristiano as they're watching some boring match together on the couch.

He's always the first one to say sorry when Cristiano complains about the people around him being _fucking idiots_.

He also managed to apologize for his accented English, childlike face, lack of deepthroating skills and _stupid questions_.

" _Sorry, Cris_ " became his mantra. And he loves repeating it every time something bad happens.

It became a chant, a prayer, an answer to everything. Or simply a side effect of every single one of their interactions, even the worse ones. 

The pain in his right cheek is a sweet reminder that Cristiano cares about him. And that's good. Everyone snaps, from time to time, and Cris, the man, the legend, he has more energy than anyone and it's only natural he needs to get it all out, one way or another.

Sometimes, he's maybe a bit too aggressive in response to the bad things happening to him. And when Paulo's in the wrong place at the wrong time, saying the wrong things, he gets what he deserves. One hit from Ronaldo, one hit from the wall behind him.

But that's okay. That's the price of being stupid. 

They never had better sex than that night, Paulo with his hurting cheek pressed down against the pillow by Cris' strong, muscular, manly hand.

When he wakes up, Cristiano is watching him cautiously, a frown across his face. Then he caresses the bruised skin of his cheek and Paulo leans into the touch.

" _Does it hurt_?"

Paulo shakes his head before laying a kiss on Cris' wide and perfectly shaved and tanned chest. " _No. Not at all_."

He lays his head there and listens to Cris' heartbeat, the most calming sound in the world.

It's a beautiful day.


End file.
